I thought I'd cleaned out the last artifacts of other people living in my apartment months ago. I sublet to a couple in 2011, then to Ray.
But last night, I was tucked up in bed with the bedside table lamp on, meaning to be asleep but steadily distracted by the constant zing of the iPhone telling me my late-night texting chat wasn't over yet, when I heard a popping from the lamp.
I'd heard it a few other times and taken it as a signal that it was time to sleep, but this time the popping was accompanied by a faint burning smell, so I took a look under the lampshade to see what was wrong and if I could fix it.
Oh.
I smiled a little then, and wondered which of the former tenants might be missing a dragon.
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